


Glory and Gore

by corullance



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Possessiveness, dubcon, oh yes it's that au, petopher, slave AU, the one we've all been waiting for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corullance/pseuds/corullance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WELP, it's the Gladiator AU we've all been talking about. Hopefully this little ficlet will inspire something more???</p><p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOONLETTUCE! I HOPE MY HUMBLE OFFERING PLEASES YOU!! :O</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory and Gore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlettuce (Claire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/gifts).



> Ok, so it's set (very subtly) in ancient rome-ish times. The guards have electricity enchanted staffs, so I guess magic is also a thing? And werewolves are all slaves, yada yada...I think that's really all that needs to be known for this story...it's really just meant as a snippet. :P

The warrior was bronzed from the sun as he finishes off his opponent with a brutally efficient blow.

 

This wolf brings some poetry to the bloodshed. It’s ironic, given how he resents being made to fight, or do anything against his will for that matter. Chris can’t exactly blame him for that. He’s a new acquisition. Unruly, but promising Chris has heard from the trainers.

 

The blood spatters glisten across the wolf’s muscles as he wipes a hand over his eyes, clearing sweat from his gaze Chris imagines. He is certainly a sight to be admired, Chris thinks, slightly glad he came to the games at Kate’s insistence.

 

The woman herself laughs and startles him out of his thoughts, the mindless enjoyment of a display of perfect physique. “It’s good to see you smile like that, Christopher. It’s been a long time.”

 

Chris smiles along. “Too long.” He’s in a good mood, for once. “There’s been a lot on my mind.”

 

Kate slaps his arm lightly with her fan, “I know you’re worried about father placing you in the Senate, but you’re perfectly suited for it. Much more than those other useless politicians. You have nothing to worry about.”

 

Chris hums a non-answer and glances back at the werewolf in the ring who is striding back towards the gates, to the kennels under the arena. He doesn’t seem to enjoy even his victory. Chris feels momentarily guilty for enjoying the view as the wolf walks away from him.

 

Kate mock gasps and hits him again with her fan. “You fancy that one.”

 

Chris’ rare good mood allows for the teasing. He can’t be in a foul mood all the time, “I’m intrigued. I’ve heard he is close to feral, but in the arena he fights like a dancer.”

Kate has a smirk on her face that spells trouble

 

“You know...” Kate starts and Chris interjects with a quick, “No!” before she can get any further.

 

Kate just laughs, “You don’t want to hear me out because you know I’m right.”

 

Chris sighs. Once Kate has an idea she’ll never let it go, better to give in now than go through dodging all her schemes when it’s less convenient. She’s still looking at Chris with this triumphant smug grin, her chin propped on her hands.

 

Chris grumbles and puts on a show of displeasure that’s only half-real. It will be good for keeping up appearances in any case.

 

And sometimes...sometimes Chris needs things for himself.

 

“Oh, alright. You may arrange an assignation if you’re so set on it, but not until after the dinner tomorrow.”

 

Kate claps her hands in glee.

 

“And you’re  not invited to watch.” Chris clarifies. Kate mock pouts, but she can’t be surprised.

 

Instead she springs up, grabbing Chris’ arm and dragging him along too. Chris sputters.

 

“What-Where are we going?"

 

“Well, don’t you want a taste? To at least see if he’ll be any fun?” Kate leads him down the stairs, under the arena, to the holding cells for the gladiators.

 

They pass by many wolves owned by the Argents, and many more who had been trained by them and sold off. They are, after all, the largest training and breeding consortium this close to the capitol.

 

“Here we are.” Kate stops in front of the wolf’s cell as if she knew where it was all along and Chris briefly wonders if he’s been set up. But that seems unlikely. How would Kate know that he would take a shine to this particular wolf?

 

He dismisses the thought. Kate simply takes a far more proactive, individualized approach to the training. Chris oversees the business in it’s entirety, he doesn’t work with the wolves much directly anymore.

 

For all the wolf has a striking physique, his eyes are the most enchanting blue and of course they are because he’s a killer, but it somehow seems to Chris, as their eyes meet, that the shade is somehow different.

 

“Slave, what is your name? Where is the kennel master?” Kate takes this arch tone when giving orders that Chris has never liked. It isn’t the arrogance, it’s the insecurity. She could speak softly and they would still obey her commands. Those who won’t obey a soft command where they would obey a hard one are not well-trained.

 

And the Argents pride themselves on their good training.

 

The wolf stands. It seems they had caught him in the middle of cleaning himself after the fight, a small basin of water and a wet rag in his hand, though he still wears the loincloth. There is blood and dust still on half of him, but his face is clean. His face is  handsome . Strong jaw and plump lips and those  eyes . Chris shakes himself.

 

The wolf gives an exaggerated look around the cell and down the halls as far as he can being behind bars and then says, in reply to Kate’s question, “Not here.”

 

Kate sneers, “You are arrogant, slave. I will teach you to mind your tongue.”

 

Chris intervenes, although he does not know why, “I thought the idea was for me to teach him that.” He says with a light smirk.

 

Kate swings to glee, “Why, Chris! I believe you made a jest! Was it your first?” She teases him.

 

Chris smiles, but out of the corner of his eye he sees the werewolf’s gave narrow. “You never said your name.”

 

The wolf shrugs, “Slave, now, I suppose.”

 

Chris is almost entirely intrigued. The wolf yields to his new position, but only when it will thwart the pleasure of his masters.

 

What a clever little beast. At first contact, he does not strike Chris as feral in the least.

 

At that moment the kennel master jogs up to them, slightly out of breath. He bows, “Apologies, mistress, master, they only just informed me of your arrival and interest.”

 

Kate nods and gets down to the point immediately, not one for delayed gratification. “What is this slave’s name. We would inspect him and…” she gives Chris a sly pleased look, “my brother would have a private inspection of him tomorrow night, at eight.”

 

The kennel master bites his lip, wary to displease his employers, “Begging your mistress’ pardon, but this one, he is nearly feral still. Good for the arena, nothing else. I would fear for the master’s safety-”

 

“You think I cannot subdue  one werewolf?” Chris asks archly, raising a brow.

 

The werewolf snorts, leaning against his cell and casually watching the conversation. Chris’ eyes cut over him and the direct gaze is a challenge. Perhaps Chris will enjoy this assignation more than he thought.

 

Chris saunters closer to the bars to stand in front of the wolf, “Perhaps feral runs to my tastes.”

 

“Your  blood runs to my taste.” the wolf growls, eyes shining.

 

“Most sincere apologies, master!” the kennel keeper cries, “He will be punished for his insolence!”

 

“Leave it.” Chris says. “I will see to his punishment myself. Arrange the meeting.”

 

The slave is grinning now, white teeth and fangs. He means to kill Chris, if he can, regardless of the consequences it would have for him and for the other slaves of the household. He is not feral, but he may be untrainable all the same, if the hatred runs that deep and self-preservation so shallow.

 

Kate scoffs, “I still have not been answered satisfactorily!”

 

“Peter.” the wolf breaks in before the kennel master can speak again, but his eyes remain pinned to Chris. “Peter Hale is my name.”

 

“Oooh.” Kate’s smile twists into something crueler, something darker, and Chris hates this part of her. “Yes, I recall the hunt that brought you in. It’s been some time. Your burns have healed well, no wonder I didn’t recognize you.”

 

The wolf snarls, all crackling energy and humor gone. Chris finds himself mourning the sizzle between them.

 

“The whole pack killed, except, was it a brother?” Kate taps her chin and Chris knows it is just a show, just to draw things out, “No, a nephew and a niece, I believe.” She approaches the bars, her cruel smile now nearly a grimace.

 

“They’ve certainly adjusted better than you.” She says, looking the werewolf up and down.

 

The werewolf roars and shifts, throwing himself against the bars. The old rock of the walls shake and Chris is impressed despite himself. This one is strong.

 

The guards rush over and thrust their long staves, enchanted with electricity spells into the cage, handily subduing the wolf, reducing him to a shuddering form on the floor.

 

Chris is truly impressed when he sees that anger still brightly burning and the wolf’s eyes pinned to Kate even through the pain. He is not cowed. He certainly gives all signs of being untrainable, Chris muses. It happens sometimes, but the niece and nephew…

 

Kate kneels by the bars next to the panting wolf. “You’ll do anything I say if you want the pathetic remnants of your family to survive the day. It’s your choice.”

 

“And I should just take your word that they’re alive.” the wolf snarls.

 

Kate smiles again and Chris nearly cringes. The day has definitely taken a turn for the worse. “Well, I suppose we could arrange some sort of family reunion. What do you think, Chris?"

 

Chris shrugs, “Do as you will. You know I have no particular tastes for such games. My tastes are more conventional.” He allows his gaze to rake over the wolf’s body. The wolf even looks affronted by his gaze, which is strange. He was not so cowed when Kate was taunting him. Perhaps he does not like the company of men…

 

“Boring, you mean.” Kate pouts.

 

“I suppose, in comparison.” Chris laughs. “Arrange what you will. I will have the wolf one way or another.”

 

Chris expects the wolf to be glaring at him with murder in his eyes, but he only looks pensieve, a nervous sort of consideration.

 

Interesting, Chris thinks as Kate leads him out, filling his ear with plans for the gathering tomorrow.

 

___________________________________________________________________

 

The gathering is a great success. There are several gladiators on duty tonight, to impress the guests with the wares of the Argent house. Peter is among them, by Kate’s design, Chris is sure, and he alone is chained to the wall. The other gladiators have learned their place better, standing obediently, caught in the less visible chains of slavery.

 

Chris spends the whole night watching Peter. Peter spends the whole night glaring at Kate, though he does spare a cursory glance to find Chris in the crowd. When he sees him Chris gives him a smirk and raises his cup in a mock toast. His nostrils flare, but still, there is not the murderous intent in his angry gaze as there is when he glares at Kate.

 

Chris notices that, when Kate is blocked from his vision, there are two others who draw Peter’s attention more than his own.

 

One is the girl that serves Kate her wine. Not the usual serving girl Kate employs. The other is another gladiator, though he still seems to be in training. He stands obediently enough, although he casts his gaze nervously towards Peter several times.

 

These must be the niece and nephew. Kate is making her point quite handily.

 

It is admirable though, how well Peter plays this game, even from his position as a slave. If not for Kate’s lack of subtlety and the naivete of his two wards, Chris would never have known the three slaves were related.

 

Peter, for all his show of feral brutality in the cells and in the arena, has a surprising amount of control. More than Chris had given him credit for.

 

Against his better instincts, Chris wants to break it.

 

The evening goes on well into the night before their guests retire and Chris can make his own escape to his chambers.

 

Peter is there already, and so is Kate.

 

She is murmuring into his ear, and the smile is back on her face, the one that makes Chris cringe. Peter looks stone faced, but there is blood dripping between the fingers of his clenched fist and Chris knows that his claws are buried deep in the flesh of his palms.

 

Chris frowns, “I believe I told you that your involvement was not welcome in my bedroom affairs.” He says archly.

 

Kate withdraws with a smug smile. She looks like she has already had her fill of pleasure. “Don’t be so dramatic. I have no interest in your ‘bedroom affairs’. I imagine they must be dreadfully boring.”

 

“To you, perhaps.” Chris scoffs, “To the participants, I imagine not.”

 

“Anyway,” Kate says, sweeping her skirts up, “I’m off. I was just ensuring dear Peter’s  complete obedience.” She pats the man on the head, “Be a good boy.”

 

She sweeps out of the room, “You too, Christopher.”

 

And they are alone.

 

The wolf, Peter, looks suddenly sullen and pouts, looking away. All the fight has gone from him, though he is still tense and annoyed he has resigned himself. Chris is struck by a twinge of annoyance. Kate, once again, ruining all his fun.

 

“So.” Chris says. The wolf does not reply or look up at him and this is all wrong.

 

Chris strides forward and grabs the wolf’s chin, forcing his head up.

 

He examines his prize. The werewolf is equally appealing cleaned and in Chris’ bed as he is filthy and bloodied and chained in the gladiator cells.

 

“Have you ever been with a man before?” Chris asks, gauging how experienced the wolf is likely to be.

 

“Yes.” the wolf admits grudgingly, holding Chris’ gaze. He is not ashamed. He only wishes not to be cooperative.

 

“Good.” Chris replies, pulling the wolf off the bed and to his knees without further pause, “Then you know what to do.”

 

It amuses Chris that the wolf is more annoyed than angry at this point. Chris unwinds his toga and lets the cloth drop to the floor.

 

The wolf does not hesitate and takes Chris’ cock into his mouth without protest. He does not let the act rest, either, but puts himself to the task of Chris’ pleasure with, if not enthusiasm, then determination.

 

In fact, Chris observes, as he hardens in the wolf’s mouth, the werewolf seems to be treating this as a challenge, as a battle against Chris that can somehow be won.

 

Chris grunts as the wolf tongues at the underside of his head and sucks hard. He grins and digs his fingers through the wolf’s hair, surprisingly soft. He grips and tilts Peter’s head back, opening his throat and holding him there as he thrusts shallowly into the wet hot mouth. The wolf glares, but it is half-hearted, a rote performance, and Chris grins. Those blue eyes, that helpless frustration only make the wolf’s mouth sweeter.

 

Chris almost,  almost believes that someone must have trained Peter in pleasure, because the wolf’s jaw softens and he opens to the thrusting with a natural effortlessness that can only be practice. But he knows the wolf went straight to gladiator stock when it was seen how feral he was.

 

Chris thrusts a little faster, just testing, a divot forms between the wolf’s eyebrows and his eyes scrunch closed. He is concentrating, but does not seem in distress. The wolf becomes still more intriguing at every turn.

 

Chris keeps the pace light. He has all night. He has not overindulged, as his guests have. It will be a late morning for all, so he can afford to take his time on this. And he intends to.

 

The wolf is surprisingly patient, still and pliant, even participating at some moments, flicking his tongue out against the thrusting. The frown between his eyes is gone and his eyes are relaxed, lashes dark against hollowed cheeks. He seems to have been mesmerized or sedated and for a moment Chris wonders if Kate has drugged him, but he can’t think why she would. She would consider it a blessing to dull the sensations for the reluctant wolf.

 

Chris closes his eyes and banishes his straying thoughts, concentrating on enjoying the sensations. The flickering tongue, swirling around the head of his cock when he slows enough to give the wolf the chance.

 

“Your mouth is sinful, wolf.” He says, speaks his thoughts aloud and wonders what Peter’s response will be.

 

The wolf’s eyes shock open. He looks confused, as though he had forgotten Chris was there, which seems...impossible to Chris, considering that part of Chris’ anatomy is currently inside the wolf. The wolf pants hard through his nose, looking close to panic, as though...as though…

 

Chris grins. What an absolute delight! “You  like this, don’t you?”

 

He pulls out of Peter’s mouth, a difficult feat to pull himself from that pleasure, “You  love this.” Peter  does look panicked now.

 

Chris shoves, pushing Peter onto his back and Chris is on him within seconds, untying the loincloth with ease, to unveil the proof. Chris licks his lips in satisfaction.

 

“Hard and weeping,” Chris taunts, putting a hand on the werewolf’s cock, smearing the bead of precum around the head with his thumb, “just from having a cock in your mouth.”

 

The wolf whimpers in pleasure, so sensitive, and Chris shivers with desire. “You are wasted as a gladiator.” He whispers almost reverently.

 

“No!” Peter shouts and it takes Chris aback almost as much as it seems to surprise Peter himself.

 

Chris surges up Peter’s body, a hand squeezing that deliciously thick neck, “What did you just say to me, slave?”

 

Peter’s expression is building into a snarl. Ah, the wolf enjoys submission, but cannot admit it, of course. Chris drags a fingernail sharply over one of Peter’s nipples. The wolf hisses and the moment of anger is gone and Chris relaxes his hold on the wolf’s neck, though he does not remove his hand.

 

“You want to remain a gladiator. Why?”

 

Peter glares up at him, “I can’t win our freedom as a  whore , no matter how good I am.”

 

Chris laughs, “You can be both for me.” He brings his mouth down upon Peter’s and here Peter matches him, strength for strength. Tongue wrapping around tongue and trading breaths in equal measure.

 

“You are lucky that I enjoy watching you fight. I will graciously allow you to remain in the arena if you admit how much you like being put in your place.” Chris thrusts his hips against Peter’s and watches the wolf writhe. “Under your master.”

 

Again, there is no hesitation and Chris can’t help but find it attractive, the lengths to which this prideful wolf will go to keep his family safe, the things he is willing to give up, “I enjoy being put in my place by my master.” Peter says, and even puts some emotion behind it.

 

Chris laughs in delight. “Now, come on, you don’t have to use my exact words, but you do have to tell the truth. What is it about this that has you…” Chris squeezes the cock in his hands. “So captivated.”

 

“I’m not…” The wolf squirms and Chris squeezes again. “I just...I don’t know!”

 

Chris backs off a little, sitting on his haunches, straddling the wolf’s thighs and stroking his cock, just lightly, almost petting him. Chris waits for more to spill from his mouth.

 

“I’ve always been…” Peter’s claws drag along the floor, biting into the wood, “like this.”

 

Chris grins. It’s like he said. Peter is wasted as a gladiator. If he truly is naturally submissive like this and, Chris flicks his nipples and Peter’s whole body jumps, so sensitive and absolutely gorgeous. He’ll let the wolf stay a gladiator and at night he will take Peter to his bed.

 

Something inside Chris thrills. He can allow himself this. He can have this. Peter  likes it. He  likes being on his knees for Chris. It’s not something that was beaten into him, something artificial, it’s clean and pure and it’s all for Chris. Let the others thing he takes the wolf by force, with brutality. It will only strengthen his reputation as the cold, calculating, soon-to-be Senator. He will keep this toy to himself.

 

Chris’ cock surges at the thought and he knows he can’t draw this out as long as he wanted to. He wants to lay his claim  now .

 

“Get on the bed.” he growls and Peter goes, pliant now that he has revealed his secret. He cannot hide from Chris.

 

“On your knees, wolf.” Chris orders as he retrieves the jar of oil he had used last night, thinking about what we would be doing tonight, what he’s doing now.

 

The wolf is a picture that deserves to be preserved and Chris lets his gaze linger, memorizing. The wolf’s face is hidden in the sheets. He’s embarrassed, which is delightful. His back is arched, muscles shining in the low light of the braziers. His ass is raised high for Chris and he thrills again to the idea that the wolf wants this too, can’t help but want it.

 

Chris smooths one hand over the curve of Peter’s back, at the arch and then over to palm one cheek and stroke over it as he dips two fingers of his other hand in the oil nearby.

 

The wolf quivers at his touch and, as Chris slips one oiled finger through the tight ring of muscle, the wolf takes in a gasping breath and tenses. Peter’s back ripples and he whips his head around to stare at Chris in utter surprise.

 

Chris frowns, then gives a crooked smile of some confusion as well, “Did you think I would take you dry, without preparation?”

 

“I would heal.” Peter explains haltingly, as though he thinks Chris must have forgotten but doesn’t want to give him any ideas.

 

Chris shakes his head with a wry smile, “I don’t think you understand just how rare and precious you are.” Chris thrusts the single finger out and then completely in to the knuckle. The wolf gasps and his legs spread and Chris measures the increased tilt of his hips with the hand splayed on Peter’s back.

 

“Like that,” Chris purrs, “One finger and your body is practically begging me to give you more. And you’re not trained at all, are you? Why would I waste watching you squirm to watch you scream?”

 

The wolf is trembling, trying to resist very unsuccessfully and Chris thinks he might be biting the sheets to keep quiet. The whole thing is so endearing.

 

He pushes another finger in. He will teach the wolf not to be ashamed, that he is perfect just like this, open and slick and desperate for Chris to use.

 

“You don’t need to try to resist, you know.” Chris says absently as he watches the wolf’s hips twitch in an effort not to fuck himself backwards onto Chris’ fingers. “No one would blame you. It’s not as though you have a choice, slave.” Chris pushes a third finger and thinks that someday, when the wolf takes him easily, when he is relaxed and pliant and used to Chris’ touch he will most definitely take into account the healing abilities of wolves.

 

And by then he will know intimately how to make the wolf crave it.

 

“Go on, tell me, wolf.” Chris prompts, pumping his fingers in to that slick velvet heat, “Tell me what you want.”

 

The wolf has relaxed again, entered that dazed state Chris had noticed earlier, though he seems less verbal like that, Chris gets the answer he wants much more easily than he anticipates, “Please, I want your cock inside, please.”

 

Chris can’t decide which side of the wolf he prefers, as a shock of heat pours through his belly, the embarrassed and reluctant side or the wanton submissive. In the end, as he gets into position behind the wolf, he decides it’s perfect that he gets to have both regardless.

 

Chris pulls the wolf’s hips up to a preferred height and pushes into him slowly, savoring the twitches that run through the wolf’s back, the way he goes tense and limp in turns, the way his hips open and he absolutely melts when Chris has buried himself as deep as he can into the slick channel.

 

He had almost forgotten how heady it is to fuck a werewolf. They seem so powerful, strong and fast and writhing under Chris’ touch, begging to be put in his place.

 

Chris sets a brutal pace. He knows the wolf can take it and by the sound of him, moaned yelps and keening whines, he loves it.

 

“You love this.” Chris still wonders at his luck, “You’ll never forget how good it feels, how badly you need this feeling. Someone over you, driving their cock into your open holes, on your knees for them.”

 

It won’t last. It can’t, when the wolf is clenching down and murmuring ‘yes’ over and over, punched out at every thrust. Chris bends his body, covering the wolf and drags a hand over his scalp.

 

“You’re mine.” Chris snarls, “You’ll never have another cock but mine.”

 

He does not know what comes over him, at the resulting whimper Peter gives, but he bites down, hard, on the wolf’s shoulder and Peter spasms and goes still under him.

 

Chris pounds him until he too falls over the edge, clawing down Peter’s back and emptying himself into the wolf, his wolf.

 

The wolf is panting under him, as he pulls out, looking dazed and, at a glance, Chris can tell that he came as well. It isn’t really Chris’ prerogative to be overly concerned by his slaves pleasure, but it pleases him the Peter find such pleasure at fulfilling his duties. It’s...flattering, he supposes.

 

Chris pets the wolf’s hair as he watches Peter’s vision start to clear and his mind is filled against his will with all the things they could do, that he could do to the wolf. He has never taken a permanent bed slave, has never cared to form even that much of a relationship. Sex was sex and pleasure was pleasure and one slave was usually as good as another, but this feral wolf brings out a side in him…

 

He thinks of all that he has heard and inadvertently seen at some of Kate’s more questionable parties. The toys and contraptions he knows she has, the games she plays and suddenly, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the trembling flank of this wolf, he understands the appeal, picturing the wolf in every possible situation he has seen.

Tied down to a table, against a wall or a pillar, suspended in an intricate net of ropes, gagged or filled with toys. Marked by whips and rods. Used and begging for more.

  
Chris is not sure that he likes the turn of his thoughts...it is decadent and it pushes the limits of what he can fairly expect a slave to endure without question, but...

 

He looks down to the wolf who looks nearly coherent and thinks, this one will not simply endure, this one will relish the treatment, even if he cannot admit it.

 

Peter finally looks up at him, the haziness lifted from his eyes, in fact, he looks downright 

  
Chris grins. “Good boy.”


End file.
